Do you want to play, Pretty?
by Rivergirls Anthem
Summary: TBag is mad. O so very mad. And he wants to take his revenge by threatening to hurt the person Michael loves most of all. [an actionstory centering on MiSa] :: chapter 6, THE FINAL CHAPTER, is up! Please tell me what you think! Please! ::
1. Chapter 1

**A/N : This is a story I came up with when I was lying in my bed the other night. I decided to write it and see what you guys thought about whether or not I should continue...So could you pleaaaaase pleaaaase tell me if I should stop or keep on going?**

**Now, I think I messed with the timeline a little : The Utah-business happened before they met up with Nika and Michael called Sara. And Sucre took the right bag - so he took the money. And he split it with the brothers. Now, that leaves a very very angry T-bag, don't you think?**

**XO**

**Please tell me if you like it??**

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**Michael rested his head against the cold window of the car, thinking back to her venomenous words, spit out as if she wanted nothing more than to make them and him disappear into the blackness. _"I have no ties to you and your brother anymore."_

"She'll come around," he heard Lincoln say to him.

Turning his head to look at his brother, he raised his eyebrow. "What?"

"Sara." Lincoln took a breath and beat his fingers onto the wheel. "I know it seems now as if she's...I don't know. But she'll come around."

"Yeah, well..." Michael sat up straight and traced his finger along the less-than-quality fabric of the seat he was in. They'd just been betrayed by his 'wife', and were running once again. He sighed. "I wouldn't blame her if she didn't."

His brother rolled his eyes. "Michael, is this how I raised you? Never give up the fight for love. Never. Make them love you." Michael opened his mouth to protest, but Lincoln continued, without mercy for poor little Mike. "I don't want to hear any 'but's, Michael. I've seen the look in your eyes when you talk about her and really, I've seen the look in _her_ eyes too."

Michael laughed sceptically. "Oh yeah, and when exactly was that?"

"When I told her to take care of you before the execution and when she stood there watching. Michael, she..."

He ran his hand over his face. "That was before I betrayed her."

"So she's pissed – yeah? I mean, I can't blame her..."

Michael huffed. "Yeah, thanks Linc."

"...but that's anger, Mike. Anger doesn't have anything to do with love. People are angry all the time. But if you show her that it's real – not just _say_ it, but _proove_ it to her...she still loves you. That doesn't change overnight."

He prayed his brother was right. With all his might.

-

Sara sat behind the wheel and watched her windshield, tainted with millions of raindrops. The rain reminded her of Michael. Then again, everything did, nowadays.

_She just hoped he wasn't out in this type of weather._

The fact that he'd called her had meant something, right? It meant that he at least cared wether she lived or died. Always a good sign. She didn't know how the news had reached him, she hoped it wasn't through some bastard or the other, but the mere action – the simple call he had placed to see if she was alright...

It had meant everything.

"_It was real, Sara. You and me, it's real."_

His voice had sounded...pained. Fragile. True.

She knew it was real, she believed the meaning behind those simple words. But she was angry. She was upset. Both at him and at herself. At him, for the obvious reasons – and at herself, for still...loving him. Loving him so much it hurt inside.

On her stereo, a woman was singing the blues, needing her man to _put some sugar in her bowl._ Sara sighed. She just needed Michael.

And he was miles away, wrapped up in some terrible conspiracy, constantly fighting for his life. Needless to say, Sara hadn't had a good night's sleep in ages, tossing and turning while worrying about him.

She shook her head and told her subconscious to get over it – it was the price you pay for love. _The lying, the cheating...she hadn't ordered it – but it was on the check anyway._ Her auburn hair clung wet to her face when she ran the short distance from her car to her appartement. To make matters even worse, she dropped her keys. Bending over to pick them up, she stumbled because of an unseen force. The next thing she knew – there was blackness.

-

The shrill ringing of the cellphone brought Michael out of his reverie. His shaking fingers opened up the newly arrived message.

_I'm calling you soon. Pick up, Papi._

Sucre. Michael stared at the small screen, immediately worrying about his friend. He knew that Sucre would never contact him unless it was something really important, so... let's just say Michael was all tied up in knots.

Lincoln shot a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. "What's wrong?"

"It's er – It's Sucre. I think he's in trouble."

The cellphone rang, and Michael immediately put the phone to his ear. "Sucre, what's wrong?"

"_Hellooo, Pretty."_

"T-Bag? Where's Sucre." He heard a shrill laugh, that rang in his ears for seconds to come.

"_No worries...Your little Mexican is fiiine. But I was wondering...how – how was my slave-language? Should I update? It's been a while."_

Michael frowned. "The message...it was you."

"_Well done, well done. I aalways knew you were the one with the brains. I was just.."_he laughed,_ "calling you with an invitation for this little game I made up. Do you want to play, Pretty?"_

He snorted. "No."

He heard T-bag sigh. _"Now, Pretty, don't – don't judge the game before I told you how it goes. I think you'll be ve-ry interested. The game is called 'four'."_ T-bag paused for a dramatic effect before continuing. Michael could hardly wait.

"_I – I'm going to tell you a little story, and every little keyword is going to have four letters. Now, once upon a time, there was a good, good, boy. God loved him. The little boy's name was T-bag. T B A G. That's four letters, you see? Now, T-bag was in jail. J A I L. And there he met another little boy. A smart, pretty little boy. Let's call him Mike. M I K E. Little Mike was in love with a pretty woman. S A R A."_

Michael smacked his palm flat against the dashboard. "T-bag, **what the hell did you do to her**? I swear to God, that I will make you pay." Lincoln snapped his head around and stared at his little brother, seeing the rage pour out of him.

"_Pretty, I strongly advise you to keep quiet until the story is finished. I'll continue now – but if you interrupt me one more time, then your little doctor won't be around to hear the ending. Am I clear?"_

Michael nodded. "Go on." He sighed.

"_I thank you. Little Mike had stolen T-Bag's cash in Utah, and little T-Bag wanted it back. He gave Michael FOUR hours to bring it, or else he would pump, pump and pump and make pretty Sara scream so loud that God himself would get a private concerto. Pretty Sara would scream so loud, and he would let her – little T-bag would let her scream four times. One little scream more, and he would slit her pretty, milky-white throat. S L I T. Now, pretty – would you like to play?"_

His nails had dug so hard into his flesh that small little bloodringlets had appeared in the palm of his hand. "I don't have the money, T-bag. Sucre took it all, remember?"

T-bag laughed. _"I know that that's the story you want us all to believe. But I ain't buying, sweetheart. You and that Mexican slave-boy were like two multi-colored peas in a pod."_

"Sucre was Puerto Rican."

"_See if I care. You have that money, pretty. And if you don't – then you got four hours to find it.Tick tock."_

"I want to speak to her. I want to speak to Sara, now."

"_I figured. That's exactly the reason why I waited for her to be...conscious, again. You have four minutes."_

Hearing mumbling and rummaging on the other side, Michael closed his eyes, imaging where they must be, how Sara must be feeling. And guilt. An immense ammount of guilt washed over him. If only he had...

"_Michael?"_ She breathed in to phone, her voice scared, but stable. Michael snapped his eyes open again. It was really her.

"Sara...Are you okay?" His own voice was calm, but inside of him a storm of feelings was raging. Fear, anger and most importantly – love. But he needed to keep it together – for Sara.

She gave a small laugh. _"Not quite.I'm er – I'm..."_ _I'm scared_, he heard her continue in his thoughts.

"I know," he said, tracing a pattern on the window. "I know. I'm so sorry, Sara. I never meant to –"

"_It's not your fault, okay. Listen, Michael," _she inhaled sharply, _"about before...I know, okay. It was real, I know."_

He gave a weak smile. "It still is. Sara, I promise that I'll get to you somehow. I promise, okay? I'm on my way."

"_Yeah. Michael, I-" _Suddenly, the phone was ripped away from her face and T-Bag spoke up again. _"The clock is ticking, Pretty. I'll be in touch."_

The dialtone resounded in Michael's ear and he snapped his own phone shut and wiped away the small tear that was forming in his eye. "Lincoln – we've gotta go back." He sighed. "We've gotta go back, Linc."

His brother nodded and turned the car around.

* * *

_So? To continue, or not to continue?_

_XO_


	2. Feeling a moment

**A/N : Hey guys, thanks for the encouragement. I'm so happy that you decided this is a story worth writing. Now, please please please please tell me what you think of this chapter?**

**XO**

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**_Don't ever feel, _

_That you're alone _

_I'd never let you down, _

_I'd never leave you dry _

_Don't fall apart, _

_Don't let it go _

_Carry the motion, _

_Carry the motion back to me_

_Feeder - feeling a moment_

"So what exactly is it he's after?" Lincoln turned to his brother and felt his heart ache at the sight of Michael's broken expression. _He really loves her..._

He sighed. "What do you _think_ he's after?"

Realization dawned. "Utah." Lincoln drew the word out in one long breath and shook his head. "He didn't believe the story about Sucre?"

"No. Now he's got Sara. And we've got less than four hours to save her..." Michael swallowed hard, trying to push the crop of emotion away.

"We'll make it. Don't worry." Lincoln patted his brother on the shoulder, trying to reassure him. It wasn't working.

"_Michael, if you're trying to calm me down, you're doing a terrible job."_

"_But I am trying..."_

Her voice was resounding in his head and it made him choke up. He wasn't...He just couldn't...

"Linc, I think we need to get the money just in case. In case we...You can keep your share, but I'll hand it over to him. If that's what it takes to save her." His voice changed to a soft whisper when he continued. "I'll do anything."

"I know you will, Mike. But we're not going to need the money." He frowned. "Do you have any way to reach the bastard?"

He shook his head. "He said he'd be in touch."

-

Sara coughed and supressed a shiver when she saw T-bag's eyes staring at her. "I need to use the bathroom."

A sly grin appeared on his face. "By _all _means, doctor, you just go ahead. I don't mind at all." He leaned back in the wooden chair that was supporting the weight of his body and licked his lips suggestively.

She huffed. "I'm not doing this in front of you. So either you untie me now and let me go to the bathroom, or I tell Michael some interesting things about you. "

He leaned forward and laughed. "Such as? I'm so very sorry to disappoint you, doctor, but I believe that in this particular scenario, I'm the one holding all the cards. Pretty boy can't touch me now." He spread his arms up to the sky and screamed. "I am un – touch – a – ble."

_Think fast._

"I'm not talking about Michael being able to hurt you, _Teddy_. I'm talking about things you'd rather not want him to know. Pretty stories could spill out of my mouth about Teddy's childhood. About how _God_ loved the little boy so much that he let his 'Momma' watch while his Daddy raped little Teddy, a pretty smile on her face. I could tell Michael about your sister and how she..."

"Enough!" T-bag had gone pale during her ranting and now he jumped out of his chair and stalked over to her. His hand raised and struck her twice. He reached behind her, grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled with all his might, a satisfied smirk on his face when she screamed. He ran his tongue up her neck and sucked on her earlobe. "Be a nice girl now, Doctor. I'm going to let you go and piss – but if you're not back in four minutes..."

Sara felt like vomiting. And that's exactly what she did when she reached the toiletbowl. The insides of her stomach spilled out of her, and she pulled her hair together in a bun while she heaved. Standing up again, she noticed her reflection in the mirror and shivered. Her arms were decorated with rapidly growing black bruises and she had a small cut next to her nose.

Eyeing the toothbrush and toothpaste, she hurriedly brushed her teeth. Quietly apologizing to the person the items belonged to, she walked back outside to meet her captor again. On her way over, she noticed a few familypictures standing on the old wooden table. _Dear God. _She knew exactly whose house this was.

Clasping a hand in front of her mouth, she doubled over when T-bag's foot struck her. She'd reached out her hands to keep from falling smack on the floor and pushed herself up. T-bag roughly grabbed her wrists and pulled her over to where the discarded rope lay.

"I said _four_ minutes." He grumbled. "Not _five_."

-

Michael leaned on the shovel and wiped his forhead. They'd been digging for over an hour and the rain had started falling down, thus causing mud to appear on the field. "Shouldn't we have found it by now?"

Lincoln shook his head. "We hid it pretty deep, Mike."

Michael raised his arm and checked his watch. 17:54. It had been just about an hour ago that T-bag called him and he didn't doubt that he'd call in six minutes.

He didn't disappoint. Six minutes later, Michael's cell vibrated in his pocket. He ran under a tree to hide from the rain and opened it.

"_How's my pretty boy doing so far?"_

Michael grumbled. "I'm trying. How's Sara."

_"Weeeeell, me and the doctor are getting ... reacquainted. I'd say she's doing wond-er-ful. I always know how to treat the ladies.."_

He clenched his fists. "I swear to God, if you hurt her.."

"_I'm just looking for my honest share of that money, Mikey boy. I ain't doing nothing wrong. Now, I hope that by now, I don't have to remind you of the tick-tock of the time? You've got three hours left."_

"I need to know where to go, T-bag."

"_You just tell me where you are, and I'll tell you how long it'll take you to get here."_

"I'm...miles away from civilisation. Sorry I can't be more specific. Are you in the Chicago area?"

_"Just call me when you have the money. You can reach me on the doc's phone."_

"Let me speak to her." Michael pressed a finger to his ear to turn down the sound of the pouring rain. He needed to hear her voice clearly. Needed to know she was okay.

_"Four minutes, Pretty."_

"_Michael?"_

"Sara." He breathed. "Are you okay?"

A sharp intake of breath followed. _"I'm okay."_ She wasn't, and they both knew it. _"Listen, I – I was thinking about something earlier. When this is all over, I want to go to Thailand together. We could sit on the terrace, sipping a glass of wine, like you and Lincoln did."_

Michael frowned. He'd never been to Thailand with Lincoln. _What was she trying to tell him?_

"_Nobody would even know we were there. Do you think that's possible, Michael?"_

-

Sara ignored the 'aww' noises T-bag was making, and focused on getting her message through to Michael. She prayed that he would figure out what she was saying. But she had few doubts. After all, he was a genius.

"_Yes, Sara. I think that's possible. We just need to have a little faith."_

Sara smiled. She had faith alright.

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_So, what did you think?_


	3. Get ready to wiggle!

**A/N : Hi-ya guys! This chapter might give you the KNOWLEDGE of knowing where Sara is. Then again, somewhere deep inside of me, I hope it doesn't (Oh yeah, I'm bad).**

**Anyway, please let me know what you think? Pleaaase?**

**XO**

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**_Don't be sheltered show me where you've been  
Show me where you've been_

_(Flaw)_

Michael beat his fingers against the carkabinet. _"When this is all over, I want to go to Thailand together. We could sit on the terrace, sipping a glass of wine, like you and Lincoln did."_

_Thailand..together.We sit on the terrace..sipping..._

"Linc, you don't by any chance carry a piece of paper with you? Pencil?"

Lincoln nodded sarcastically. "Yeah, of _course_, Michael – that's _exactly_ what I carry on me when I'm breaking out of prison."

Michael frowned angrily. "Damn it, Lincoln, we can't afford for you to be bitter."

"Oooh. _God forbid._ We just escaped from _prison_ and have a ton of agents on our trail, who can kill us without needing an excuse." He put his hand dramatically on his heart. "I'm _sorry_ for feeling a little bitter, Mike."

"Could you shut up now, okay? Is that alright with you? T-bag has got _Sara_, **my** Sara, and _God knows_ **what** he's forcing her to do. So could you like – cooperate with me? For a minute? Could you just shut up? Evaporate or something, I don't know..."

"Then who's gonna drive the car?" Lincoln stuck out his tongue and Michael laughed. His brother gave him a big grin and slapped him amically on the back. "You'll figure it out...what she was trying to tell you. We both know you will." He pointed towards the cabinet that Michael was wearing down with his constant tapping. "Check the cabinet for paper. Or use the cellphone."

Rummaging through the cabinet, Michael was not surprised in the least when their was no piece of paper. But there _was_ a gun. _Huh._ Whoever owned this car before them must not have felt safe in the old US of A. Maybe he was a crook himself. Maybe he too had been a knight, on his way to save the lady he had fallen in love with.

Maybe they were both nutcases.

His fingers quickly entered her message into the textmessage on the cellphone and he could only stare at the formed words that defied him.

"_Nobody would even know we were there. Do you think that's possible, Michael?"_

_Nobody would even know we were there. _They were alone. No neighbours that she knew of. They were at a house, not an appartement.

_Right._ At a house. You're halfway there, Michael.

_We could sit on the terrace, sipping a glass of wine, like you and Lincoln did._ Her voice – how had her voice sounded? It had sounded exactly like she was...beautiful. Had there been a hitch in her voice when she said that sentence? He supposed there had been.

He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to recall her voice. _Talk to me, Sara._

_We could sit on the..terrace.sipping a glass of wine._

_Terrace._

"Lincoln, she's in Chicago."

His brother cocked his head in a silent curse. They were over an hour away from Chicago. An hour away from Terrace, T-bag...and Sara.

-

T-bag licked his lips and kicked of his shoes. "Has anyone ever told you that you have the most beau – tiful hands, doctor?"

Sara shook her head and stared at her digits, that her captor was 'complimenting'. She thought back to the day that Michael had held her hand in his, as a silent offering of gratitude and apology. _"Doctor...thank you."_

Less than a minute before that had happened, he had commented on them being together had things gone differently. _"It is something to wonder about...What if..."_ She hadn't tried to fool him or herself into thinking that she didn't. Wonder, that is.

Because the truth was that there had hardly been a night gone by without thoughts of Michael plaguing her. Plaguing her, annoying her. Comforting her, loving her. The day she'd seen him walk out of the conjugal room was the day the nightmares had started. Her safe haven had been closed to her. Her pilar of strength had been moved by another construction company.

"I want _you_," T-bag continued, while he pulled off his socks and wiggled his now bare toes, "to massage my feet."

_Oh yeah. That's what she was going to do._

"Teddy, there's _no way_ I'm touching those." She felt her nose scrunch up in disgust and at the same moment, she saw his face cloud. This wasn't good. But she couldn't keep it in – Sara had never been good at hiding her disgust. V bad in a situation like this.

He licked his lips. "I'm afraid you've got no say in this matter, doctor." His eyes turned to slits and he shot her imaginary firebolts. "I'm sure that if I was that pretty little collegeboy, you'd run over immediately and rub the best you could." He closed his eyes and tasted the word on his mouth. "Rub." He clucked his tongue. "Hm-hm-hm. That might come later."

Sara swallowed hard and turned her face away from him. He couldn't see this immense ammount of repulsion painted all over her features. There'd be hell to pay. "I wouldn't touch Michael's feet either." _Right._

T-bag kicked her in the face (with his bare feet this time), and one of his _has not been cut in three months_ nails scraped against her flesh, leaving a small gash in its wake. "Oh." He said. "Would you look at that. I'm...I'm terribly sorry, doc. Seems like my nails need to be done, too." He sighed. "If only I had someone to cut them for me." The beady eyes sparkled.

Sara huffed. "Yeah, that's just _too_ bad, Teddy."

His hand struck her hard. "I do not en_joy_ being mocked, doctor. You _will_ treat my toes, or I might be a little more severe on Pretty boy. Maybe _four_ hours was a bit much. I'll bet that if he's as smart as people say he is...he could do it in three." He laughed. "Want to take that bet, doctor?"

She breathed in deeply, not showing him her fear. Fear she could hide. "Teddy, it would ruin your whole game. The name Sara has four letters...SLIT has four letters too. I doubt you'll find a synonym for that word with three." _Please, God – don't let there be a word like that._

He grabbed her roughly and positioned her exactly in front of him. Her head was at his knees – and everything in between. "Hm." He moaned. "That's the _perfect_ height, little lady. We need to remember this possition." T-bag laughed. "Now, what you need to do is grab that foot in front of you – and treat it gently."

With a sigh, she gave in. "Wash your feet, and there's no trouble."

-

"Who do we know in Terrace?" Lincoln raised his brows.

Michael shook his head. "The question is, who does _he_ know in Terrace."

_Ding ding ding...and the answer is_

"I have no idea."

Michael caught sight of the clock. "He'll be calling soon."

Lincoln laughed. "What, so you're going to _ask_ him?"

-

T-Bag was singing _Get ready to wiggle._T-bag was 'rhythmically' wiggling his toes along to the tune. Sara was trying not to slit him with his own toenail. _Nail. N A I L._ Wouldn't that be a lovely ending to this story, boys and girls.

In the middle of his song, T-bag stopped. He let out one final "Get ready to...". And then he was silent forever. The autopsy showed: death by own toenail. It would be a lovely report.

But instead – to Sara's chagrin – he just flipped open his phone and called Michael. She let go of his feet, but he motioned her to go on and, probably just to spark on Michael, he started moaning when she was doing absolutely _squat._

He laughed. "Tick-tock, Timberlake. Where are you?"

_"We have the money – we're on our way to Chicago. I suppose you're somewhere around the Windy City?"_

T-bag nodded and tilted his head. "See, Sara? I knew your man was a smart little punk."

_"Is there anything else you need to tell me, Theodore? An address would be nice."_

"I think I'm done talking with you. But a little _respect_ would be nice, boy. After all, I have you girlfriend within reach." And then he let out another moan and 'pretending' to cover the mouthpiece, uttered a 'oh yeah, sweetheart, right there'.

Sara swore she could hear Michael grit his teeth. She smiled. "Hang on, pretty, you ain't getting squat from me, but Sara wants to say something in between...you know, don't you? Hmm...you picked a nice piece of woman, Mike."

Sara grabbed the phone from him. "Michael?"

"_Sara?"_ She could hear his ragged, worried breathing and knew what he wanted to hear.

"I'm okay," she said. "How are you?" She imagined he would smile at that question.

_"I've been better, but no worse than yesterday."_

She couldn't suppress a smile of her own. That was Michael for you.

_"Listen,"_ he continued, "_I'm almost there, okay? It's going to be alright."_

Sara nodded. She knew. "I know." If T-bag hadn't been sitting next to her, she would've told Michael so many things more. But they could wait. Because she knew.

"Tick-tock, pretty. Two hours left."

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_So? What did you think? XO_

_PS: I know CUT has three letters, but let's pretend Teddy doens't figure that one out. I mean, it's not like he's the brightest kid on the block, ya know? XO_


	4. Promdate

**A/N: Another chapter up! PS: By the end of this, you'll know Sara's exact location...Isn't that exciting!o**

**Please tell me what you think about this one?**

**XO**

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**T-Bag smiled at her. That filthy grin that he got sometimes appeared on his face and Sara recoiled inwardly. _This wasn't good._

"Sara-" he drew her name out sweetly, too sweetly, "You look _so _delicious, I want to take you to the Prom." He started to humm some song she supposed was hot and heavy when he was in highschool, closed his eyes and started dancing with the air. "Hooold on," his eyes started to twinkle, "I think I've got just the thing for you. Don't move."

Sara yanked the rope that tied her to the heater. It didn't loosen a bit. She wasn't going anywhere. Staring at the door that the bastard had disappeared through, she sighed heavily. She really needed Michael right now. Her eyes found the clock. It was ticking on, counting down Michael's minutes left. Drawing in a sharp breath, she felt a sharp pain in her chest. _Only one hour and twentythree minutes left._

_Tick tock._

T-bag reappeared, a triumphantic smile on his face and a smooth silk dress in his grubby hands. "Well, precious, you can wear this to our date."

She decided to play along. "Teddy, if you're really planning on taking me to Prom, you better ask like a gentleman. I might say no." She laughed. "I probably won't, considering my current negotiating position, but, you know, let's pretend it's real. Humor me."

He bowed in front of her and extended his hand. She was thankful that she wasn't able to reach that far and take it. "Doctor Sara, would you do me the honor of being my date to Prom?"

_No. _"Why thank you, Teddy, I would love to."

He grinned at her, obviously satisfied with her answer. Next thing, he frowned. "Now, you can't dance with those ropes, sweetheart. Here, let me." Sara had to keep herself from vomiting when the cologne, which he had obviously sprayed on himself while getting the dress, wafted into her nostrils.

"Next thing you've gotta do, if we want to get this right – is that you've gotta allow me some place to change. Prom means not getting to see your date until she's ready." He opened his mouth to protest. "Don't worry," Sara reassured him, "I will only be...four minutes."

After he had allowed her to go change in the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror. She didn't know what she was doing, but somewhere deep down, she knew that she _had _to. Sara was sick of being slapped around, kicked and beaten. Michael would come save her, but until then, she would do as he asked.

The dress fit her. It made her shine again, even if her eyes looked dead and her hair was nowhere _near_ smooth and silky.

_Tick tock._

He stood there in front of her and let out a short, appreciative laugh when she stepped out. "You look as pretty as your little man, doctor." _Michael. I miss you._

She gave him a weak smile and uttered a soft 'thank you'. T-bag walked over to the stereo and popped in a CD that lay next to it. He turned his hand a few times, cutting circles through the air, before he let his indexfinger fall down on a random number on the remote. Immediately, a soft song started to play. He let his head fall back and smiled in satisfaction.

_Daytime, I'm fine_

_Everything is back to normal_

He walked over to her and placed one hand on her waist (she wanted to slap him) and his other hand sought hers and hoisted it up in the air, before twirling her (again, she wanted to slap him). But she didn't. Instead, she forced herself to focus on the song instead of...him.

_Last night, I thought that I would die_

_I had nightmares, I was so scared,_

_Thank god that you are by my side_

_To hold me when I cry_

_Michael._ Sara closed her eyes, trying o so very hard to ignore the stench of Teddy's breath in her neck, and pictured his face in front of her. She missed him more than he would ever know. Opening her eyes again, she saw past the growing-by-the-minute-grin on her dancepartners face and looked at the clock. _One hour, forteen minutes. Tick Tock._

_I wanna be strong, but I don't wanna be alone tonight_

_I wanna believe that I can save the world and make it right_

_But I'm only human, and you've got a hero's face_

_Right here in your arms is the safest place_

She pictured his face again, with closed eyes, and smiled. Definitely a hero's face.

-

Michael dialed the phone. It was now three minutes after the hour, and T-bag hadn't called. So, he had to call himself, right? The thoughts of Sara were racing through his head a mile an hour, imaging all the things that might have happened to her. He needed to hear her, now.

_"College boy?"_

"You didn't call – I needed to contact you." Michael closed his eyes at the satisfied tone that T-bag's voice held. It couldn't possibly predict good news.

_"I. Am. Touched that you can't survive an hour without hearing my voice, pretty. Why, I didn't know you'd grown so attached to me. Meanwhile, I am getting a bit 'attached' myself. Prom can do that to a man."_

Michael raised his eyebrows. "Prom?"

"_That's right, sweetheart, I took your lady to the Prom. And we had a won-der-ful time, now didn't we?"_ he paused, _"I'll bet the afterparty will be even more enjoyable for the both of us. You know what they say about a promdress, don't you?"_

"You **don't** touch her, T-bag. Your whole game would be ruined. Don't even get near her body – the dress stays on." He thought about T-bag for a second, and needed to expand his demand. The perv would crawl through a loophole if he found one. "And now groping, rubbing, touching, kissing...Not a _thing, _you hear me?"

"_Pretty, I won't touch her. Not until time runs out, in about – erm...wow!"_he snickered,_ "fifty-five minutes. Time really does fly by when you're having fun, now don't it?"_

_Tick tock._

"Let me talk to Sara."

_"Now, don't get your panties in a twist, Mikey boy. Here she is."_

"_Michael?"_

"Hey." He rested his head against the headrest and took a deep breath.

"_I er- I'm okay.So, don't worry, okay?" _

"I'm going to get you out of there, you know that, right?"

"_I know."_she whispered._ "I know, Michael."_

He have a weak smile. "I'll be seeing you in less than an hour. I'll see you soon, Sara."

She smiled too, he could feel it. _"'kay."_

"_Fifty-three minutes, Pretty. Tick tock, time's running out."_

Lincoln glanced at him. They were about ten miles away from Chicago. They'd be there soon. But the driver _did_ need a direction.

Meanwhile, T-bag's explanation was resounding in Michael's head. Something had registered with him. It was seeping through the whole story. _The Prom._

He was taken back to his prisoncell days, when Sucre and him would share a cell together. Michael shook his head sadly. He missed Sucre. Well, anyway, he recalled a particular chat they'd had after the riot.

_"Papi, you remember how T-Bag framed his celly? You'd never do that, would you?"_

_Michael laughed. "Suces, I'd never sell you out. How did T-bag convince the Pope anyway?"_

_Sucre frowned. "He'd put a picture of the Badge's daughter on Promnight underneath the other guy's bed."_ _He shook his head. "It's sick, how he threatened the Badge that he'd take his daughter to Prom. I swear to el Dio, man, I'd NEVER let that sick man take my baby to the dance."_

The Badge. BOB.

Michael snapped open the cellphone and dialed an random number. _Everyone_ has the White Pages, right?

_"Hello?"_

"Goodevening, Ma'am," he started, and shook his head at Lincoln, who stared at him. _Not now, Lincoln._ "I'm sorry to be bothering you, but I wonder if you happen to have the _White Pages_?"

_"I'm not buying anything."_

"I'm not asking you to, Ma'am. But you see, I have been a complete idiot. When I packed and left for my friend's house, I forgot to bring his address with me. Would you be so kind as to check it for me? I'm sorry to be asking this of you, especially since it was my own fault, but I-"

"_It's alright. What's your friend's name?"_

_Thank you!_ "Thank you so much, ma'am. His name is Robert Hudson, and he lives in Chicago."

_"Give me a minute...Yes, I've got it right here. It's 920631 Oak Park...Terrace, Chicago. Will you be needing his phonenumber as well?"_

Michael inwardly jumped for joy. "No thank you, Ma'am. You've helped me more than you know." He disconnected the phone and grinned at Lincoln. "I know where she is."

-

Well, you couldn't say T-bag wasn't consistent. She was right back where she started, tied up with the same rope, to the same heater, the same bloody scenery. But she was wearing a different dress.

T-bag had tied her up again and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, your guy has told me not to touch you before his time is up." He had grinned after taking a quick peek at the clock. "Which is in 47 minutes. I'm afraid you're going to have to restrain yourself until then." His finger had scraped past her battered cheek and he had pressed a kiss to it afterwards. _I wanna be strong, but I don't wanna be alone tonight. _Michael would find her. She knew it. And until then, she would think back to the song, the lyrics that made her strong.

_As long as I am with you_

_As long as I can feel you_

_That's all I need to keep me going_

_On and on and on and on_

Sara closed her eyes. _"I'll see you soon, Sara."

* * *

So? What did you think? I'm not a 100 sure of Bob's address, because I lent that disc to a friend of mine (WHAT was I THINKING?), but I know that it was "Terrace". Remember T-Bag's: "Wow, you must really be something to be living on a 'Terrace'!"? Yeah, so...That's where I got my hide-out. _

Did you like it? Pleaaaase tell me!

XO

Oh, the song is Leann Rimes' "The safest place".

So? What did you think? I'm not a 100 sure of Bob's address, because I lent that disc to a friend of mine (WHAT was I THINKING?), but I know that it was "Terrace". Remember T-Bag's: "Wow, you must really be something to be living on a 'Terrace'!"? Yeah, so...That's where I got my hide-out. So? What did you think? I'm not a 100 sure of Bob's address, because I lent that disc to a friend of mine (WHAT was I THINKING?), but I know that it was "Terrace". Remember T-Bag's: "Wow, you must really be something to be living on a 'Terrace'!"? Yeah, so...That's where I got my hide-out. (ps: I can't seem to delete this last part, pay no mind) 


	5. The final countdown

**A/N : This is the end of 'the game', but I'm prob going to write another chapter (or two?) to wrap things up. **

**Pleaaase tell me what you think? Please?**

**XO**

**

* * *

**Lincoln turned off the engine and looked at his brother expectantly. "So who lives here?" 

Michael continued to stare out the window, only answering when Lincoln nudged him. Hard. "Do you remember Bob?"

"Bob? CO Bob? He lives here?" Lincoln's voice was filled with disbelief. Bob, the nice young CO they had encountered just before the riot, lived _here_? Between the _rich and richer?_

"_Lived._" Michael swallowed, seeing the whole thing again: T-Bag stabbing Bob, and throwing him over the railing, smiling when the body hit the ground._ One for the team_... "And he lived – right over there." He pointed towards a residence the distance, shaking his head sadly. The house looked so nice and inviting, with the white bricks and green door. But inside of it... he squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled heavily.

_I'll see you soon, Sara._

His hand reached over to the cabinet and he flicked it open – weighing the gun in his hand. His brother, who had been staring at the building, snapped his head around at the sound of cocking. "Where the hell did you get that?"

Michael shrugged. "Cabinet."

"And it's all we've got?"

He nodded. It would have to do – and it was their only chance. If they failed, they wouldn't be able to do it all over again. It was a one-time thing. He unbuckled and opened the door, pushing it with all the might he had in his seemingly limp arms. It was time.

--

Sara licked her dry lips and cast a glance at the clock. _Twenty-one minutes left._ _Tick tock._

Teddy was raising his eyebrow at her suggestively ever three seconds and she was beginning to grow tired of it. She looked at him and squinted her eyes, blinking pure hatred his way.

He sucked in a breath through pursed lips. "Doctor, _doctor_! What is this?" He walked over to her and crouched in front of her tied legs. "Are we getting hoity toity? Now?" T-bag laughed and licked the palm of his hand, before placing it against her cheek. "You are burning up, doc, you need to sizzle."

_She'd sizzle alright._

Throwing her bound legs into the air, she knocked them right into her captor's body, causing him to fall down. Because, as much as she'd promised herself to lay low and do as he asked – there was only so much Sara Tancredi could take.

It had not been the wisest decision to infuriate him, she realized when he stood up and struck her face twice, the rage pouring out of his every action. T-bag stalked over to the kitchen, where Sara herself had helped Bob's wife prepare everything for the wake and rummaged through the drawers. Sara shuddered at the sight of the item glistening in the shrill kitchenlight.

T-Bag came back and positioned himself on her legs, trailing his thumb over the sharp end of the blade. Letting out a triumphantic smile when immediately the blood started to seep out of the small cut. Sucking on his one thumb, he reached for the cellphone with the other and dialed.

"I should explain the rules again to your pretty man – his time is up."

--

Michael swore when, only a few steps away from their destination, his cell started to ring. The last thing he needed was for his caller to know that he was only seconds away from breaking up his _party_.

He ran a little down the road and flipped the cellphone open, while constantly keeping an eye on the hide-out. But the curtains didn't move one bit – and T-bag never stuck his head out the window.

"_Your time's up, Pretty."_

Flicking his wrist, Michael looked at the hands of the clock, ever-nearing the deadline. "I have eighteen minutes."

_"Theoretically speaking: yes. But our mee – ting, that I have so longed for, still needs to be arranged."_

He decided to play the game. Because, after all, he had _no_ idea where on earth the man might be, right? "Okay, where do you suggest we meet?" He motioned his brother to follow and slipped behind one of the houses and climbed onto one of the bushes-shaped-as-ponies, pushing himself over the fence that seperated this house, and Bob's yard. It took some stuntwork, but they managed.

"_There's this peaceful park in the neighbourhood – about five minutes a walkin from where I am. I figured, since it is such a lovely evening, I'd take your lady for a stroll. "Nightingale", it's called, I believe. Meet me there, in ten minutes. You bring the money, I'll bring your girlfriend. We shall not disturb the peace in any way, Pretty. Or Sara'll be doing a whole different lotta singing."_

The brothers halted just on the other side of the fence, Michael's eyes scanning the different sorts of exits that they could take. He took it all in and kept silent while T-bag kept on ranting.

_"Speaking of Sara, you'll hear her in a minute. In the meantime, let me give you a little more ah – persuasion, to make it on time."_

He heard her scream his name, and yelled her own into the phone. Dropping it on the lawn, he sped up the stairs that led to the porch and threw open the door – fury guiding him.

T-bag dropped the knife he held to Sara's leg and gripped his own, fervently searching for the bullet that had disappeared into it. Michael held the gun trained at him and loomed over the miserable figure, who was biting his one arm to try and keep the pain away.

After what seemed like an eternity, he threw a bloodied piece onto the floor and raised himself. "It's not that easy...pretty."

Sara, who had by now been untied by Lincoln, looked on, fear gripping her heart. She was scared for Michael. Even though he had the gun in hand...there was no knowing what the outcome of this situation would be.

She stepped closer to Licoln and by the moving of her shadow, light fell on a particular spot of the floor. The kitchenknife shone, the blood at the tip only clouding part of its brilliance. She went to reach for it, but Michael's voice held her back. He screamed at her, out of fear that by trying, his opponent would find a way to hurt her again. Sara was safe now, and she would stay that way.

T-bag had the knife clutched in his fist by now, and he grinned triumphantically. "A ball in the leg won't stop me, Pretty."

"Perhaps not," Michael said, "but this will."

He cocked the gun one final time and fired. He'd aimed high enough this time.

-

And then there was silence. The shock of what had happened had not worn off yet, and the three people didn't blink for about a minute, until Sara's sob reverberated through the room and she walked over to Michael. He threw the gun near T-bag's body and held her in his arms, whispering to her. That it was over. That she was safe now...and that she always would be. Forever.

* * *

_So? What did you think? Did you like it? I really really hope you did. _

_XO_


	6. Always

**A/N : Hey guys, I'm back! With another chapter, yeaah! **

**Please please please let me know what you think?It's the last chapter, so...**

**XO**

**

* * *

**Lincoln looked on while his brother cradled the doctor in his arms, pressing small kisses to the side of her face to reassure her. He exhaled. Michael had been a wreck these last few hours, thinking that the only woman he had ever really loved could be gone any minute. But now they were both safe. And they were together. 

All of a sudden, Lincoln felt like an uncredited guestappearance. Like a humm in the atmosphere. He caught Michael's eyes when they opened for a split second and motioned that he would be leaving. His brother nodded softly and continued to hold Sara and treat her like she was the most precious thing in the world. To him, she probably was.

Stepping outside, the drops of rain attacked his face, but he didn't mind. He was lucky to be alive and feel them. If Michael hadn't...Jesus, if Michael hadn't come for him – a lot of things wouldn't have happened. Some sweet, some bitter. Sara wouldn't even be in the picture and T-Bag would still be alive, harrassing the youngsters.

He shook his head lightly. It had been madness, this plan – but it worked.

--

Michael felt her breathing return to normal and distanced himself a bit, to be able to look into her eyes. They were still as beautiful as ever, even though they looked tired and scared. He gave her a small, reassuring smile and felt his heart surge when she returned it, then raised her hand to wipe at her tears. She blushed, embarrassed of her breakdown.

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head and tenderly pressed a kiss to her forhead. "Are you alright?"

Sara felt his lips murmur the words against her skin and closed her eyes out of sheer pleasure. _It had been real – and it still was._ She nodded silently and pressed herself against him again, finding comfort in the warmth of his arms. "Hm. I just feel..." she inhaled deeply, searching for the word that she couldn't find.

"I know." She smiled at him. _Of course he knew._ Michael had always seemed to know how she was feeling and, subsequently, he always knew what to do. That was one of the things that she... Suddenly, she saw realization dawn in Michael's eyes and watched as they widened with concern.

"What did he do to your leg?"

Sara stepped backwards to answer his question, not surprised in the least when she discovered the red stain on the once so smooth and pure dress. She pulled it up to her tighs and clucked her tongue when the wound appeared. _a T._ The bastard had begun to carve his name into her flesh.

Michael walked over to her and crouched to examine the gash. He drew in a quick breath and raised his eyes to meet her (surprisingly enough) calm ones. "Sara..."

She shook her head and, letting her dress back down, cradled Michael's face in her hands. "This is _not_ your fault."

He bit his lip and turned to stare out of the window, watching the raindrops glide down. _If he hadn't..._ "Michael!" Her voice brought his attention back to her, and those warm hands on either side of his face. "I want you to listen to me. Are you listening?" He nodded. "This is _not_ your fault. T-bag was one of the biggest bastards on the planet and thanks to you, we can now speak of him in the past tense. You didn't know what he would do."

She pulled him up to stand in front of her. She took his hands in hers and looked into his eyes, praying for him to really understand what she was saying. "I'm okay, Michael. I'm okay, and that's thanks to you. Do you have any idea how many times T-bag threatened me in Fox River? He would have come after me anyway, Michael. It would have been his ultimate victory: to murder the woman who'd taken care of him in prison." She reached one hand up to his cheek and took a breath. "Michael, if you hadn't cared for me like this... I would have been dead."

Michael swallowed the crop of emotion down his throat and motioned for her to come into his arms again. He needed to feel the warmth of her body, feel how alive she was. _"Michael, if you hadn't cared for me like this...I would have been dead."_ His love for her hadn't destroyed her...it had saved her.

-

Lincoln tapped lightly on the door to the room occupied by his brother and Sara, and waited for a small 'yes' to enter.

His eyes took in the large contrast of the room. Michael and Sara stood in the middle of the room, holding eachother tightly, while in the background, T-Bag's body lay...motionless.

He cleared his throat."The neighbours might have heard the shots, Mike. We need to go."

Michael nodded. _The question is: where?_

Sara immediately voiced an answer to that question. "You can come with me to my appartement. Stay there for a while..." she took in their tired faces and added, "and rest. Stay for as long as you like, and.."

"Sara," Lincoln interrupted her, "that's called 'aiding and abetting of the two most wanted men in America'."

She shook her head. "That's called 'helping the men who saved my life'. Now, I'm almost ready to go, I just need to get my clothes...erase all the evidences of my being here." She walked away from them, only letting go of Michael's hand when it became necessary. He smiled.

Lincoln grinned at his brother when Sara had left the room. "She's really something, Mike."

Michael sighed. "I could have lost her today, Linc."

"You didn't." He patted his brother on the shoulder. "You didn't, and that's all that matters."

They heard Sara scream. A scream so shrill that it cut through them like a knife. Michael was gone before Lincoln even realized what had happened, and in a matter of seconds he held Sara against him, sheltering her from the sight that had greeted her upon collecting her items, that T-bag had most likely spread all over the groundfloor.

The two bodies lay there, side by side, resting next to the large bed with red satin sheets and two identical nightlights with a now tainted white print. _Bob's wife. Bob's daughter. Scarred, lifeless and naked on the floor. _

"It's not you." He murmered next to her face. "You're alright, you're okay. I'm here, Sara. You're okay."

She clutched his shirt tightly and calmed herself. Stepping away from his body again, she took a breath and looked up at him, keeping her gaze away from the sight behind them. "Let's go."

-

Sara fumbled with the keys to her appartement, but eventually managed to open the lock. She smiled. Even if she hadn't been able to pull it off, she had her very own genius with her – to pick her lock, like a knight in shining armor.

Stepping inside, she turned around and motioned for the men to follow her, disguises and all – not that they really needed them, seeing as it was after nine and the rain was still pouring down. Sara doubted that anyone would stand out in the rain and yell _Hey, Sara! Those are the two most wanted men in America!_ But hey, if the boys needed that kind of safetynet, they just go ahead.

They walked into her appartement and shook the rain off of their faces, like wet dogs. Sara was struck by the sense of familiarity it all envoked, the two men in her appartement. Especially with Michael. It felt as if he had always belonged here.

"Do you want something to drink? Eat?" She walked over to the fridge, limping a bit because of her still bleeding thigh.

Michael stood up from the couch she had invited them to sit on, and stalked over to her, guiding her away from the kitchen area. "What I want," he softly said, "is for you to sit down and let me take care of that cut."

She protested, saying that she was fine, but Michael would have none of it. Sara laughed. "You're stubborn."

"You have no idea." came Lincoln's gruffy reply.

Michael just smiled and waited for her consent to roll up her dress and tend to her wound. He treated it with the most gentle movements Sara had ever felt and she let out a soft sigh when he was done. "Thanks."

"You're most welcome."

--

She'd cooked them dinner, poured them juice and handed them towels to shower. And even though they declined her offer to give them a pair of her pj's, the men were the most relaxed they'd been in a long time.

So relaxed that Lincoln had fallen asleep the moment he hit the couch. Sara had let out a soft laugh at the sight and groaned at the snoring. But she was happy. This way, she didn't have to explain to him why she wanted Michael to sleep in her bed tonight.

They'd been shooting eachother loving looks in the last few hours and Sara's heart had almost burst when he had taken her hand under the table and had woven their fingers together, carressing them with his thumb. All of the things she felt for him had been in overdrive, and now that he was here..with her. They could finally be expressed.

"Michael?"

He tore his eyes away from Lincoln's sleeping form and gazed at her, his chrystal eyes penetrating her. "Hm?"

"Could you stay with me tonight?" She blushed under the intense gaze he gave her, and swallowed a whole lotta times to get rid of the sudden dryness in her throat.

With a boldness she didn't even know she possessed, she took his hand and pulled him towards her bedroom. The stood in front of the bed for a few seconds, not even looking at eachother out of nervousness. Sara took a deep breath and turned around, looking straight into Michael's eyes.

He was overwhelmed by his feelings for a minute and bit his lips clumsily. "Are you...Are you sure?" His voice broke on the last part of that sentence, but neither seemed to mind. He watched lovingly as Sara nodded her head determinently and started trailing her hands up and down his chest.

"I'm sure, Michael. I've never been more sure of anything. I just.." a tear welled up in her eye and she blinked it out, feeling it roll down her cheek, that he'd taken in his hand. "I need you, Michael." She let out a soft smile and added something that captured all of their feelings. "It's real."

He captured her lips tenderly and held them for as long as he could, before distancing himself a bit and whispering his consent.

"It _is_ real. It always will be."

* * *

_So? What did you think? (bites her lip nervously) Was it good? Did you like the story? Please, let me know something. Anything!_

_XO_


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